


We (all) know what we know

by bluecarrot



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 06:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11225247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecarrot/pseuds/bluecarrot
Summary: request: "Gimme a Miranda-ized version of a historical interaction that really could have happened, I am talking some v well researched porn *finger guns*"





	We (all) know what we know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luminousbeings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luminousbeings/gifts).



> written 20 June 2017.

"Glazed carrots?"

"Thank you." Burr accepted the willow-ware platter without accepting any of the food it held; he only passed it onward and down the table to Angelica.

She took it with a dubious expression, looking rather as if she thought he could not be trusted even to give her food, and that she would prefer to test it first for common poisons.

Burr smiled at her. "You're looking especially lovely tonight, Ms Schuyler. That pale green just suits your complexion." It was the truth, and he didn't mind saying it. She was the sort of woman in whom beauty might be overwhelmed by character, and she'd often showed that prickly side -- to him, in particular -- but right now her porcupine-quills were laid flat down by the calming presence of her sister.

The dress was nice, too.

Still, Angelica thanked him with little grace.

On the far side of the table, Hamilton was holding forth about ... something. Politics most likely, Burr thought. It was only a guess, though, since hadn't been listening.

Now Burr looked up, caught Alexander's gaze, and watched with some amusement as the man actually fumbled with his knife, losing his train of thought and stuttering. "As I was saying --"

Burr smiled at Hamilton too, and watched him flush pink. Such a reward for such a small effort! And Burr was good at smiling. He liked it. It could mean so many things. And it was fun to talk that way, too -- with a double-meaning tucked inside the words like a sweet in a _pain au chocolat_ , so no one knew except the one who swallowed it. "What _were_ you saying, Hamilton? Do you even know yourself?"

 

 _(Not three hours ago they'd been in the hot close stillness of a closet, semi-solid darkness made everything easier, they didn't have to look at each other, this could be anyone -- it could be as easy as he'd fantasized about -- Alexander shoved up against a wall and_ pleading _for it --)_

 

Hamilton cleared his throat. "The conversation with Jefferson about the lands in Louisiana."

"Ah. Yes. Go on."

It didn't matter. No one was listening. Eliza had a baby on her lap, chatting to it now and then while it looked around with limpid brown eyes -- Burr was beginning to associate "Hamilton offspring" with those dark, soft eyes, since six out of the brood were so blessed. If he found an orphan in the street who looked like that, he'd bundle it up and leave it in a basket on their doorstep. Address it to Eliza. _Another bastard orphan for you to raise._

Not that Burr was judging Alexander for the odd extra-marital affairs! He had fathered enough bastards of his own, he was sure of that.

And he thanked all three forms of God and every single saint in heaven that their _mutual_ exploits couldn't have any such result.

 

_(Alexander gripping him tightly -- too tight -- so Burr gasped and complained, not that Hamilton listened; he was biting Burr's neck and rutting forward against his hip and talking, still talking as often as he could get breath_

_Every time he spoke it made Burr more angry_

_and every time he got more angry he got more hard_

_until that goddamn Hamilton was rubbing him through a toe-curling limb-stiffening orgasm_

_and Burr was trying to catch his racing heartbeat with his eyes shut and his face in Alexander's loose hair, breathing hard like this was the only source of oxygen in the room)_

 

"Oh," said a distracted Eliza, prying tiny fingers off her dress. "Alex. There was a letter for you, just come in with the afternoon mail. Did you see it?"

"No. A letter coming to the house? Was it personal correspondence?"

"I didn't open it, but I thought it might be. Since it was addressed to you -- to _Mr Hamilton_ , I mean, not to any _Esquire_ or _Secretary_."

Hamilton got up to search for it -- ignoring the complaints from his wife that it was rude to simply abandon the supper table, especially when they had guests.

He came and sat back down, letter in hand. "Angelica isn't a guest. She's family."

Eliza frowned. "I meant Mister Burr."

"Burr doesn't need any of my politeness," said Alex, short.

He broke the seal and unfolded the paper and read silently to himself -- once, twice --

 

_("Fuck me, fuck me, fuck," he'd said, and didn't complain one bit as Burr pressed his thumb down hard and dragged it along the veiny ridge, it was almost a miracle to make Hamilton stop complaining, and it was a miracle too, the way he shivered all over in his brief ending and then reached out, looking sleepy and satiated in the light seeping under the closet door, looking grateful, looking glad._

_"Thank you," he'd said)_

 

Now his face was grey, all the brightness gone.

Burr didn't have the right to speak: not here. Not now. Not in this house. He gripped the edge of the table.

Eliza looked up; she saw it too. But her voice was steady. "Alexander -- tell me -- is it bad news?"

"John Laurens is dead," he said, calm. He seemed to have accepted it already, in that one half-moment of reaction, and controlled himself as fast. "He's been shot in the neck. In North Carolina. He died there, in North Carolina. This letter is from his father, to tell me. Since I'm one of his old friends, his father wrote. He died three months ago."

"Alexander," said Burr: he had not meant to say it. "Alexander. Don't."

Hamilton didn't hear him. It was possible he didn't hear anyone, at that moment; the baby had set up a wail and Eliza was standing, scraping back her chair with a wretched screech of a noise and rocking it in her arms. Maybe that noise covered up Burr's careless speech. Or maybe, he thought, it didn't matter. Because it seemed they were all staring at Alex with strange faces, like no one was exactly quite sure how to react -- how much secret they were allowed to reveal, and to whom.

**Author's Note:**

> -Angelica is unmarried here, because Lin Miranda didn't marry her off, although in RL she was actually married way before Eliza & Alex met. (And Burr fought her husband in a duel, because of course he did.)
> 
> -Historic Aaron Burr did have several bastards -- he had like a zillion kids. He raised his step-children (with his first wife Theodosia), had several babies with her, and fathered at least three bastards. He ended up adopting/raising one of them later on in life. One of his great-great-great-grandbabies is Senator Burr of North Carolina, who is not yet proven to be colluding with Russia. Write him & tell him how ashamed Aaron Burr would be
> 
> -the Louisiana Purchase didn't have anything much to do with Hamilton, but I'm sure Hamilton was against it ANYWAY just because Jefferson thought it was a good idea


End file.
